Thyrza | Page 7

to talk wisely. I
know nobody in London who could teach me to do either the one or the
other.'
'Well, I suppose you'll go out till luncheon-time?' said Mr. Newthorpe.
'Egremont wants to have a pull. You'll excuse an old man.'
They left the house, and for an hour drank the breath of the hillsides.
Paula was at first taciturn. Very unlike herself she dabbled her fingers
over the boat-side, and any light remark that she made was addressed to
her cousin. Annabel exerted herself to converse, chiefly telling of the
excursions that had been made with Paula during the past week.
'What have you been doing in Jersey?' Paula asked of Egremont,
presently. Her tone was indifferent, a little condescending.
'Reading.'
'Novels?'
'No.'
'And where are you going next?'
'I shall live in London. My travels are over, I think.'
'We have heard that too often,' said Annabel. 'Did you ever calculate
how many miles you have travelled since you left Oxford?'
'I have been a restless fellow,' he admitted, regarding her with quiet
scrutiny, 'but I dare say some profit has come of my wanderings.
However, it's time to set to work.'
'Work!' asked Paula in surprise. 'What sort of work?'
'Local preacher's.'
Paula moved her lips discontentedly.
'That is your way of telling me to mind my own business. Don't you
find the sun dreadfully hot, Annabel? Do please row into a shady place,
Mr. Egremont.'
His way of handling the oars showed that he was no stranger to
exercise of this kind. His frame, though a trifle meagre, was well set.
By degrees a preoccupation which had been manifest in him gave way
under the influence of the sky, and when it was time to approach the
landing-place he had fallen into a mood of cheerful talk--light with
Paula, with Annabel more earnest. His eyes often passed from one to
the other of the faces opposite him, with unmarked observation;
frequently he fixed his gaze on the remoter hills in brief musing.
Mr. Newthorpe had come down to the water to meet them; he had a

newspaper in his hand.
'Your friend Dalmaine is eloquent on education,' he said, with a
humorous twitching of the eyebrows.
'Yes, he knows his House,' Egremont replied. 'You observe the
construction of his speech. After well-sounding periods on the
elevation of the working classes, he casually throws out the hint that
employers of labour will do wisely to increase the intelligence of their
hands in view of foreign competition. Of course that is the root of the
matter; but Dalmaine knows better than to begin with crude truths.'
In the meanwhile the boat was drawn up and the chain locked. The girls
walked on in advance; Egremont continued to speak of Mr. Dalmaine, a
rising politician, whose acquaintance he had made on the voyage home
from New York.
'One of the few sincere things I ever heard from his lips was a remark
he made on trade-unions. "Let them combine by all means," he said;
"it's a fair fight." There you have the man; it seems to him mere
common sense to regard his factory hands as his enemies. A fair fight!
What a politico-economical idea of fairness!'
He spoke with scorn, his eyes flashing and his nostrils trembling. Mr.
Newthorpe kept a quiet smile--sympathetic, yet critical.
Annabel sought her father for a word apart before lunch.
'How long will Mr. Egremont stay?' she asked, apparently speaking in
her quality of house-mistress.
'A day or two,' was the reply. 'We'll drive over to Pooley Bridge for his
bag this afternoon; he left it at the hotel.'
'What has he on his mind?' she continued, smiling.
'Some idealistic project. He has only given me a hint. I dare say we
shall hear all about it to-night.'

CHAPTER II
THE IDEALIST

When Egremont began his acquaintance with the Newthorpes he was
an Oxford undergraduate. A close friendship had sprung up between

him and a young man named Ormonde, and at the latter's home he met
Mr. Newthorpe, who, from the first, regarded him with interest. A year
after Mrs. Newthorpe's death Egremont was invited to visit the house at
Ullswater; since then he had twice spent a week there. This personal
intercourse was slight to have resulted in so much intimacy, but he had
kept up a frequent correspondence with Mr. Newthorpe from various
parts of the world, and common friends aided the stability of the
relation.
He was the only son of a man who had made a fortune by the
manufacture of oil-cloth. His father began life as a house-painter, then
became an oil merchant in a small way, and at length married a
tradesman's daughter, who brought him a moderate capital just when he
needed it for an